


And If I Go

by spiderwebdudechild



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Endgame, Hurt/Comfort, I rewrote the ending and made it so much worse bc I hate myself, Infinity Stones, Irondad, looololololol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-11 02:05:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19522717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiderwebdudechild/pseuds/spiderwebdudechild
Summary: At the end of the day, Peter wanted to protect Tony as much as he protected Peter. So when they’re in the middle of the fight, and Peter sees Thanos cornering Mr. Stark, he realizes there’s a moment from Titan that he still owes it to everyone to throw back in the big purple bastard’s face.~In which Peter uses the gauntlet instead of Tony.





	And If I Go

**Author's Note:**

> Please don’t hate me for this I was crying at four AM while writing this

I think it might’ve been one of the most satisfying moments of my life. I mean, I got dusted after failing to get that metal glove off by an inch, I’d been so close. But now, this was a great feeling. Well, not really. My legs burned, I was starving, I was bleeding. Everything around me looked like a wasteland and yet, I was seeing every bit of mythology and fantasy, so I couldn’t really tell how I was feeling. 

I looked up at the big ugly guy, the silent snark on his face, and I didn’t know if he cared to recall what I’d done an hour-no, five years ago. How I grasped onto the fingertips of the glove so tightly, but had been flung away because of that other guy. 

I didn’t care if he remembered. I wasn’t letting go this time. I’d seen Mr. Stark in the rare flat area with him, and my heart had skipped a beat. He was a comfort zone, and seeing him alone with this ultimate enemy had kicked something off in me. I was both desperate and angry, and defensive and scared, and it was all some combination of brain chemicals that had given me the nerve to race to him, stupidly jumping in front of Mr. Stark like a deer in front of a car. 

My hands were on the glove, a better grip this time, and Mr. Stark and I began to move that same way we had before. He used his suit-it was new, I noticed, and I briefly wondered how many he’d created in the past five supposed years-to distract Thanos, using beams and shields and blades. He moved both too fast and too slow, but I wasn’t one to complain. We also didn’t speak. Maybe he’d said something to me, but either I didn’t hear, or simply didn’t process. 

Someone else joined in. I couldn’t tell who, but all I saw was an enormous ball of pulsating light hit him square in the face. A little bell of victory sounded within me. More of the balls of light came, but my I put my eyes back to the glove. 

It was coming off, I could see now, and my heart started selectively beating to how I moved. It sped up each time I saw another bit of his Shrek-like hand. The way I was jerking my body away from him, using every little shred of fight in me, I felt like a dog playing in a rope. In that case, I also couldn’t tell if I’d actually get the glove, or if it’d be the same outcome, and this big guy would inevitably get it back, to dangle it in front of us. 

“Not again, not again, not again.” The metal of the glove was so ugly, the stones gleamed so brightly, I could only compare it to the glint of Mr. Stark’s suit among all this destruction. More of the purple skin, and I got a little more hopeful. Mr. Stark and everybody else are gonna survive, because I’m gonna get this damned glove off, for real this time. The mechanical legs dig further into the ground, dragging me back twice as much. 

In some untellable amount of time, I-

I got it off. 

It came off with a snap, and a shiver went up my spine about what this metal dragging across skin would feel like. It was the same feeling as imagining a metal rope getting dragged through clenched teeth. It made every bit of me uncomfortable. 

I held the gauntlet to me, having flown back into a metal edge, probably some corner of some part of the old building. When we’d arrived from the portals, there was barely enough in tact to recognize this as the Avengers facility. It’d made me sad, thinking about all the rooms I’d spent two years in. The common room for movies, the lab for when I convinced Mr. Stark that time wasn’t important, and then he was rushing me to my bedroom at three in the morning after we’d crafted some goofy little nanotech contraption that was more for amusement than productivity. 

I snapped out of my victory-reverie, and saw that Mr. Stark was further trying to distract the purple guy from getting to me. It now fully dawned that this was pretty much the current bane of his existence, and he’d kill me to get it. Well, he’d kill me a second time. 

I scrambled to my feet, and I vowed to hold onto this thing like some sort of holy grail. No more hot potato, there had to be some sort of solid plan for what to do with this thing. 

I ran, my legs-real and mechanical-carrying me comically over rubble, bouncing like I was some sort of animated ballet dancer. A sort of euphoria wormed it’s way in, and I realized now: this is what winning felt like. It was great! I felt like it was a sort of redemption from the battle on Titan. I’d gotten it, finally, albeit after five blank, nonexistent years. I’d have to ask someone about that later, I already know that it’s gonna fuck me over for longer than the actual gap. 

All around me, chaos danced individually, within and with each person I saw. The red girl’s brighter red magic, the Wakandans’ spears, Captain Marvel’s pulsating power that literally rolled off of her, and some people just had a chaotic look, like a. . . raccoon with a gun? Okay, so Build-A-Bear joined the Marines. Very cool. 

I pinpointed each of the alien creatures and Thanos’s groupies with a clarity that surprised me. Fight or flight, I suppose, except now it was both at once, and it was forcing me into autopilot, except the two pilots were fighting for control, and I might accidentally do a fucking 360 mid-air any moment. 

Okay, I have to find somewhere to go, somewhere to hide this. I was now the target of every bad person in this fight, and that count was in the thousands, as far as I could tell. 

“Karen, find me a hidden spot-or something, I don’t know!” Some gap in the rubble, a makeshift shelter, that was all I needed. 

“There’s an opening at your two o’ clock, the structure seems to hold a stable area inside that you could take cover in.” Yes! Thank you Karen. I followed her directions, and focused on the area that she’s highlighted in my vision. It was a giant crumbling panel that held a slim gap under it, some concrete holding it up. And now, time for all the baseball games that Mr. Stark and I never watched to go to use. I sped up for just a few seconds and let my feet give out, sliding to my thighs, feeling my hip taking quite a bit of the impact. I slid under the gap, smoothly, and the solid ground gave out, and I fell for a fraction of a second before landing on a slanted piece of building, and all around me was a sort of very small cave made of the debris. The glove sat in my arms, and if it could speak, it’d be mocking me. Me, of all people, holding this thing. The thing. . . that wiped out half of the entire universe. This thing, that killed me five years ago. I couldn’t tell if I should hold it like a relic or throw it to the other side of this little space. 

This thing that can wipe out life on a genocidal level. 

I twisted around, looking through the gap that I’d slid through, and studied for a moment. Even with the hundreds of strangers that had all come together, we were outnumbered. Mr. Stark! I looked for him, his suit being an easy thing to spot. I did immediately, and he and Captain Marvel were still fending off Thanos. With a slow motion that made me sick, I saw him swing an arm, and Mr. Stark was flung to the side like a rag doll. 

That thing can wipe out life on a genocidal scale. 

I looked at it, still wrapped in my arm, it’s glowing stones inviting, tempting. 

Absentmindedly, I asked out loud, “How does this glove thing work?” I wasn’t really expecting an answer, but praise whoever, I got one. 

“You gotta think about-“ whoever answered got cut off, some ear-piercing noise coming through.

“You gotta think about who it’s directed at. Taking or bringing back, so-“

That had been a different voice, and I had no idea who either of them were. In fact, I had no idea how I was even talking to anyone over digital communications, but I trusted that it had been Mr. Stark’s doing. Probably something with Karen, too. 

So, you have to think about who you’re taking away or bringing back. It made sense, barely. Magic rocks and Pegasi and raccoons and Ant-Man and, and. . . and. . . 

My head swam, and I almost started crying. No, no, I got this far, this isn’t really the time for a crisis, Peter. Get your shit together and put the glove on. 

It was a sporadic, impulsive, and even for me, stupid ass idea. I was. . . a seventeen year old that could stick to things. How could I handle this? It was so daunting, yet such a simple decision. 

It had to be done. That was all. For me, it was simple. 

Will this kill me? I don’t think I really have the time to answer that, and the longer I pondered this, the harder Mr. Stark and Captain has to fight to block Thanos away from me. Had he seen where I was going? 

I looked down at the glove, and shifted it so that I held it with both hands. It was heavy, and looking close, the gauntlet wasn’t the original gold. I saw Mr. Stark’s signature red, and I smiled. I held the underside of it, balancing it on one hand, and I flexed my right hand. 

It’s just a glove, just a glove. Dumb it down and put your mask on so you’re not as scared. 

It’s just a glove. 

I began to inch my hand into the enlarged glove, made for a hand much larger than mine, and it being nanotechnology, it responded. The diameter of the glove shrank, downsizing to fit my hand like a mold. My fingers moved past the wrist, into the actual hand of the gauntlet. I stretched them out, gingerly, like if I touched the inside, there’d be something sharp that would hurt me. 

Would this hurt? That was a stupid question, of course I knew that this was going to hurt. I was not as big or strong as Thanos, and when he’d put the stones into the gauntlet, it obviously hurt him. 

This was going to hurt, a lot. I would’ve been able to easily tell, but my ears had been ringing and my hair had been trying to get on end this entire time. It was a field day for my senses, but not for me. 

The glove started to fully fit down to my thin hand, and that’s when the heat started. A deep, searing, buzzing, hot pain that flooded through my fingertips, up my arm, like molten lava. I watched the colored bolts, and I felt as if my arm was turning into an electric storm. My arm started to spasm, and I clamped my other hand onto my bicep, holding it like it’d save my life. I let out a cry, and it only relieved me for a second. The hot pain kept spreading towards my face, and down my ribs, and little licks of it seeped into my chest, making it hard to breathe.

I think this is the worst thing I’ve ever felt. 

This is definitely the worst thing I’ve ever felt. But it needs to be done. 

Sometime or other, I. . . adjusted to it? Some of the pain turned cold, like being barefoot in the snow, and it became a little easier to gasp for breath. It also became easier to notice the tears coming down my face, and the voice in my ears. 

“Peter? Kid?” It was Mr. Stark, and the sound of him made me wonder what would happen after this. 

“Kid? What happened?” I slumped forward, head tipping against the dirty surface of the concrete. I panted, my right arm weighed down by how badly it hurt. 

“This hurts, um, a lot.” I managed that out, and it was a disgusting understatement. I laughed, ironically, or maybe it was just stress. Yeah, definitely stress. 

“Kid? What hurts, what happened?” He didn’t sound like he was fighting anymore, though he certainly sounded winded. I lifted my head up, tingling, to see through the gap again. Mr. Stark wasn’t in sight, but I saw Thanos, where he’d been drug a ways away by Captain and some others. 

“The, th-“ In my right ear, I felt like I was hearing white noise. Probably my entire right ear being fucked over, but whatever. 

“The glove. It- it kinda burns.” 

“Peter. Tell me you did not.” All other noise seemed to be drowned out by his tone. It was quiet, and sharp, and stiff. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Take it off. Take it off, now, Peter, now.” His voice grew louder towards the end of his words. He was angry? I assumed he was, or he was afraid, or both. Probably both. It kinda sounded like a super intense version of his lecture voice. 

“It has to be done. I can-I just-“ I paused to catch my diminishing breath.

“I just need to think about it.” I mustered up some of that bravado I had earlier, clawing it from the beating of my heart, turning the sound into feeling, and lifting myself to my feet. I gripped the edge of the giant concrete piece, and hoisted myself through the gap, more light shining down on me. The ground was rough, and I was dizzy, so I stayed on my knees. 

“Peter. Peter, take it off now, this is not a question!” I shifted to the side and elected to not respond to Mr. Stark’s shout. I would apologize after this. After this was all over, and we could finally spend another semi-normal hour together for part of a movie, inevitably falling asleep during. 

“It has be done. It has to be.” With my right hand, the pain still so blinding and sharp, I grabbed the jagged edge of a corner, so I could stand up straight. 

Thanos took away trillions, even more, lives. He took away children, and mothers, and animals. He took me away from some of my favorite people. 

Five years, I planned on reclaiming. Five years that were lost on me. Lost on Mr. Stark and I, lost on anybody I knew that had survived when I hadn’t. 

Five years to give back to every single person, on every single planet, in every single galaxy. 

“Peter, I existed without you for five years, I can’t do it again. Take. It. Off.” His voice quivered, and I felt momentary grief. Would I be lost after this? I genuinely had no idea. But this was about more than me. It was about more than how much I loved Mr. Stark, and how it seemed that with me and having a dad, the third time really is the charm. 

“It’s okay, Mr. Stark. I promise.” I meant it. Some way or another, it would be okay. For both, or maybe only one of us. Maybe only one of us would walk away from this. 

But either way, it had to be done. 

When I heard the sound of his suit, I snapped my fingers. My eyes and thoughts were on Thanos, and every single ugly creature on this wasteland, trying to claw away the lives of us. Somehow, each of their faces were in my mind at once. And somehow, I knew that purple bastard was looking at me. 

~

I thought I stayed awake, but in all actuality, everything turned a red-orange. I wasn’t standing up, and there was no pain. I was somewhere else in the world, though I had no idea where. It was a solid flat ground for as far as I could see. 

A figure stood in front of me. Even in all the stress and hazey fear I felt right now, I recognized the red hair and distinctive features of Natasha, one of the first Avengers. She was wearing a black tank top and jeans, nothing like the tactical wear that she was always seen publicly wearing. It made her look less an idolized soldier and more like someone Mr. Stark was friends with. Why was she here? 

Was I dead? I. . . didn’t feel like it. If I was, why was I seeing her? I’d never met her before, I didn’t really have any personal connection to her. I mean, she was Natasha Romanoff, she was still cool as hell, but when people die, it made sense for them see loved ones, I think. 

“Uh, hi.” She was looking at me, a little confused, understandably. She had no idea who I was. Although, I probably still looked like a beat-to-hell teenager. 

“Hey.” 

“Do you know what this place is?” I looked up at the faint red clouds, unmoving in their places. Looking down, it looked like there was actually a thin layer of water on the ground. 

Would I be stuck here? Was she stuck here? I felt a little stone sink in my chest; I wanted to go back to Mr. Stark. 

“Nope. It has something to do with one of those stones, though.” I guess that made enough sense. We made eye contact for a second more, and the red of the world all turned to a flash of black, and I became blind. 

~

The heat, the color seemed to explode, so much that I blacked out, and woke up on my left side. Everything on my left was hypersensitive, and on my right, nothing. 

I couldn’t feel anything. In fact, my mind seemed to get more sluggish by the moment. I could feel the rocks and debris digging into my cheek, but I couldn’t feel Mr. Stark’s hands as he lifted me up, and I couldn’t make out what he was saying to me. His face was angry, horrified, hurt. He almost looked betrayed. It hurt me, in turn. This was the worst expression I’d ever seen on his face, and I know I’d caused some impressive ones. 

I felt so cold. I felt like every bit of warmth had been sucked up and expelled into the air by the glove. I felt very tired, and very much in pain. I knew the dull ache coming right now should be a lot stronger than it is. 

Beside Mr. Stark’s head, one of the giant flying whale-insect-whatever things started to crumble while in motion. I saw the dust fly away in the wind like dark smoke, and I followed the trail until I was looking at Mr. Stark’s face. 

“Peter. Peter. Look at me. Hey.” I looked into his eyes, the dark brown that was so like my own, and I saw the emptying irises of someone who felt pain. His hand was on my face now, I realized, and I could sort of pick out the pressure from his fingertips. 

I whispered a one word apology to him. It came out more like a breath, but my throat hurt so bad, my head felt so heavy, I just felt like the word could barely come out. 

“No, no, there’s nothing to apologize for, Peter.” His tone turned soft, and inviting, and I wanted to beg him to keep talking. My body felt weird, like it was tapping out. I couldn’t feel my right leg, couldn’t move my left arm, my cheeks felt like the skin was going to sag right from my face. 

“Hey. I’m proud of you. We won, Peter. Look at me. We won all of this.” Despite the pain I could see in his eyes, he had a smile on his face. Gentle, like he was looking at something skittish and afraid. The creases around his eyes took on that clever look, like he knew something I didn’t. 

I realized my vision had wandered down to his chest. His reactor, the blue glowing and seemingly going out of focus, slowly, with everything else. A hand under my chin tilted my eyes back in his direction. 

“I love you, Peter Parker.” It was a whisper. I think I’d heard him right. 

I wanted to answer, so badly that it haunted me right in that moment. But what I felt kept me from saying anything. It was like that moment when you know you’re about to fall asleep, and you’re laying there, and you could move or say something, but your body has already gone into off mode, and your mind has no choice but to follow suit. I huffed out a sound at him, meaning to say that I loved him too, that I was sorry, but that this was worth it, in the long run. 

“And if you’re tired, go to sleep, and we can watch some movies when you wake up.” 

I think the last sensation I knew was his face leaning towards mine, to the side. Or maybe it was the light pressure on my cheek, or how I watched the red blur from my vision, warping, melting into black, as I felt my lungs fail me, and as I failed my one promise to Tony.


End file.
